


Rewarding Punishment

by Cawaiiey



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: BDSM, Bottom Jesse McCree, Creampies, Light Bondage, M/M, Spanking, Top Hanzo Shimada, butt plug usage, dom Hanzo, pLEASE USE A CONDOM IRL!!!, pre-discussed scene, sub McCree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 07:53:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12428265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cawaiiey/pseuds/Cawaiiey
Summary: The candles, the fresh sheets, the whiskey they’d shared before he’d ordered Jesse to take his clothes off and get on the bed? That had all been Hanzo’s idea.The ties, the spanking, and the riding crop in his other hand? That had been McCree’s idea.





	Rewarding Punishment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lyall_Lupa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyall_Lupa/gifts).



> Hi!! This is for Lyall_Lupa / ohayokuroneko on tumblr!! Please enjoy it :)

Candlelight flickers, embers on lit wicks dancing to an unheard tune. The room smells of rosewood and vanilla; sweet yet musky. Incense burns from its spot on the nightstand, trails of lazy smoke curling towards the ceiling in a lethargic spiral. Other than the wax candles around the room casting their dim glow along the walls, no other light source is present. It deepens the shadows, makes them dance across the carpet, the walls, the bed. 

The bed that McCree is on.

He looks good like this. On his hands and knees, naked save for the silk ties that bind his ankles to the bedposts and his hands together at the wrists. The gold and silver fabric is a stark contrast to his weathered, sepia skin. He looks  _ lovely _ , all tied up for him, spread out like a feast. He wants to ravish him, to tear him apart from the inside out, to hear him  _ scream _ his name until the entire base knows what happens behind their closed doors. 

Hanzo licks his lips in anticipation. The dragon awakens.

McCree is wound so tight already– the act of tying the gunslinger up sets the mood for the both of them– that when his fingertips connect with the skin of his lower calf the man’s shoulders visibly tense. Hanzo watches the sweat that beads on his neck slide down the curve of his back while he drags his fingers along his muscular calf and up the thick of his quivering thighs. He shakes like he didn’t ask for this. Like he didn’t look up at Hanzo weeks ago, while resting his head in his lap, and said, “Hey, sugar? Y’ever thought about tyin’ me up and givin’ me a lil’ spankin’ for being such a troublemaker? ‘Cuz I sure have.” 

They’d set their boundaries, established the safe word, picked a date they both knew they’d be free, and waited for half a month for this day to come. The days, the hours, the seconds all ticked by slowly until, finally, they’d woken up today eager to start the scene. 

The candles, the fresh sheets, the whiskey they’d shared before he’d ordered Jesse to take his clothes off and get on the bed? That had all been Hanzo’s idea. 

The ties, the spanking, and the riding crop in his other hand? That had been McCree’s idea. 

Hanzo walks his fingers up his lover’s backside, smirking when he  _ hears _ him inhale sharply at the fleeting contact. He’s so incredibly tense. Every breath he sucks in is audible. Raspy.  _ Needy _ . He presses his palm to Jesse’s sweat damp back and slides it up, up,  _ up _ , along sun-kissed skin and scars dug into his flesh. Each one tells a story that he knows already. He’s been intimately acquainted with every inch of McCree’s skin time and time again, but it never gets old. He could do this again and again and  _ again _ without tiring of him. 

Up his back and his neck, Hanzo’s hand travels until he buries his fingers in Jesse’s messy oaken locks. He winds the hair around his fingers, tightens his grip, and  _ pulls _ . 

McCree goes so  _ easily  _ with the movement, head lifting up from where it was hanging between his shoulders. Pliant and willing, every line of his body bends to Hanzo’s will. He uses his hold on him to keep his head up and pointed towards the headboard while using the soft leather end of the riding crop in his other hand to tilt his lover’s face towards him. And McCree goes, turning with the crop and looking up at Hanzo with such an open expression of adoration that his heart skips several beats at the sight. Underneath the love shining in those brilliant amber eyes upon which the candlelight dances, Hanzo can see exactly what he wants in this scene, and what he knows that Jesse wants to give him. 

Utter obedience. 

“Such a good boy,” Hanzo says, injecting every velvety word with a sweetness so thick it may as well be molasses. A tremor rocks up McCree’s body as he nods fervently, practically lapping up those four words of praise like a parched man in the desert. His eyes flutter shut and his cheeks darken in the dim, lips parting to let out the softest sigh of delight.  _ Lovely _ . 

Hanzo drags the end of his crop along Jesse’s lips and up the stubble-covered curve of his jaw before he draws it away from him. His grip on his hair tightens as he pulls his head even further back. And McCree goes, arching his neck so that his Adam’s apple is more prominent. It bobs as he swallows. His eyes open, half-lidded and simmering with desire. That amber burns into Hanzo, unrelenting. Usually that expression has him weak in the knees and tripping over himself to fall into McCree’s bed so the man can ravage him like he so desperately wants him to. 

But today is different– today, Hanzo is in control. He wants to kindle that fire until it engulfs him. He wants to burn him until nothing is left, to smoke him down until Jesse is nothing but a pile of smoldering ash on their bedspread, completely and thoroughly  _ gone _ . 

“You’re not always a good boy though, isn’t that right, Jesse?” 

McCree gasps, needy and raw, as he scrambles to respond, “Y-Yes, sir.”

“You’re being good now but you’ve been such a troublemaker recently,” Hanzo pauses, taking a moment to delight in the sound of his lover’s ragged breathing before he continues, “I’m afraid that deserves a punishment. Does thirty lashings sound fair to you, Jesse?” 

His Adam’s apple bobs with a desperate swallow, eyes clearly unfocusing at the thought of being reprimanded. 

“Yes, sir.” 

His lips part as he sucks in a bracing breath, anticipation evident in every line of his tense body.

“You will count every strike. If you miscount, I will add another five lashes, Is that clear, Jesse?” 

He visibly shakes, bound hands pressed against the bedspread balling up the comforter as they curl into fists.

“As crystal, sir.” 

Hanzo lets go of his hair and McCree’s head drops to hang between his shoulders once more. They heave with every breath he takes. He’s needy,  _ so _ needy. It’s visible in the sweat that beads on his skin, in the way he trembles in anticipation, in the precome that is steadily dribbling from the tip of his hard cock that is arching towards his stomach, fat and heavy with arousal. Hanzo steps back to watch it, eyes following the path of a particular drop as best he can in the dim. It carves a path down the head to pool in the ridge above the glans before falling to the bedspread to immediately disappear in the fibers of their duvet.

Simply erotic.

He reaches forward with the crop to brush the soft, buttery leather against McCree’s cock. Just to see it twitch, to hear him suck in a desperate breath, and cant his hips forward as best he can with his ankles tied to the bedposts. It’s a fleeting touch, nowhere near enough friction for anything McCree may want. Besides, he won’t be coming tonight unless it’s untouched. It’s all a a part of the rules of this scene that Jesse so desperately wants.

Hanzo drags the crop against his thigh and down the curve of his calf as he steps around the bed, watching his lover shake at the touches. He pulls it away from his skin to press it against the middle of his back, sliding the leather along his spine. Every inch it travels downward is another inch closer to his slick hole, which they’d taken the time to stretch open already before Hanzo had tied him up. Currently, there’s a small glass plug inside of him, keeping the cowboy comfortably full while they play. He’s looking forward to sliding the plug out of him later and pushing himself in when his backside is burning bright red from the spanking Hanzo is going to give him.

“I’m going to start,” he warns, voice barely a whisper, almost unheard over Jesse’s more frequent panting breaths. He taps the end of the crop against the base of the plug, smile widening when that wrenches the sweetest gasp from his lover’s lips.  _ Lovely _ . Just as quickly as he’d moved the crop to tease his stretched hole, he moves it away, leaving Jesse alone and untouched on the bed. Hanzo takes a step away from him, watching him until his breathing evens out and his shoulders cease their shuddering. Then and only then does he strike. 

The initial smack is much louder than it has any right to be in their room, practically echoing off the walls back to them. He goes right for the center of one cheek, snapping the leather against the skin and staring, entranced, as the flesh darkens to a stinging red. The silence that follows the audible  _ smack _ is practically deafening until Jesse finally speaks. 

“One,” he counts aloud, voice strong and put-together, if not a tad breathy. Entirely too level, if you ask him. Hanzo’s lips curl into a mischievous smile, thinking of how he’s going to break Jesse down until he’s begging for more, more,  _ more _ . 

The next two lashes are in quick succession, one audible crack after the other against the same cheek. Jesse counts them easily, sure and proud, even as his arms shake and his hole visibly clenches around the plug buried inside of him. Three more follow those two, striking fast and hard. Red blooms underneath the abused skin, angry and beautiful. Hanzo loves the look of it– loves the look of  _ him _ . Jesse McCree, one of the most dangerous and wanted men in the world, tied up and spread open, at his mercy,  _ all for him _ . 

When his lover calls out the most recent strike, his voice wavers the slightest bit, and that is the first crack in his resolve. 

There’s a certain pride that wells up within him knowing how much McCree trusts him, how hard it is for the man to willingly relinquish control like this. Hanzo is the same way– it took a very long time for him to be comfortable enough with his lover to give him the reigns, so to speak. Since then, he’s preferred to have Jesse as the one that leads in their sexual endeavors. There’s something incredibly comforting about being filled by his lover in a way that the handful of other people he’s been with were never able to– he hadn’t…  _ couldn’t _ trust them enough to let them take control. 

But Jesse is a different story. He loves him more than he’s ever loved anyone else before. Hanzo trusts him wholly. Knowing McCree trusts him just as much to let him see this more vulnerable side of him has warmth bubbling up in his midsection. It makes it easier to step out of his comfort zone like he is. While the role he’s playing now is uncommon for the two of them, he takes to it as best he can, knowing how badly his love wants this.

Hanzo slides the buttery leather of the riding crop against his lover’s reddened cheek, listening intently for the signs that he likes it. It comes in the quiet hitching of his breath, in the shake of his shoulders, in the way his toes flex and curl. The fleeting, gentle touch is a precursor for the three sudden strikes he inflicts upon the outer edge of his cheek, and the next three along the sensitive underneath of his rear. Every audible smack is accompanied by a number as McCree counts them aloud. The more he spanks him, the more breathy his words get. 

He swats across the back of McCree’s left thigh, right underneath his thoroughly abused cheek, and listens to his airy count of, “Thirteen,” spill from his lips. It’s music to his ears, symphonious along with the ragged panting breaths Jesse sucks in.

“Fourteen,” follows the next blow to his sensitive thigh, the cracking sound of the crop echoing off the walls of their bedroom. It comes back to him in stereo, fanning the flames in his midsection and making him burn brighter,  _ hotter _ .

And with a final flick of his wrist, Hanzo wrenches a strained, “Fifteen,” from Jesse’s throat as the crop makes contact with his reddened skin once more. 

McCree’s arms and legs shake as Hanzo takes a step back from him to let him breathe for a moment. They’re halfway done with the spanking now, and Jesse has been doing wonderfully so far. But even those more used to this sort of play would need a break after a rapid-fire spanking like that. Hanzo strokes his hand up and down the firm shaft of his crop, toying with the friction-warm leather of the tress on every upstroke while he drags his gaze down every inch of Jesse’s sweat-slick skin.

Hanzo is struck again by how good he looks like this, spread out and open for him. His left cheek is a stinging red, obviously abused. He’ll have trouble sitting for the next few days, no doubt. And every throb of pain will just remind him of tonight, of willingly being at his mercy, and of what they did in the candlelight. 

Jesse eventually calms, arms and legs shaking far less but still with the occasional tremble while his breathing evens out. Hanzo knows he’s ready when the man wiggles his hips in a manner meant to entice him, and tilts his head to peek over his shoulder at him. With a roll of his eyes, Hanzo steps forward to where he’d been before, one hand settling on the overheated, tender skin of McCree’s abused cheek while the other grips the shaft of the crop harder.

“Good boy,” Hanzo gently praises, digging his fingers into the meat of his lover’s toned ass. McCree makes the sweetest sound, a gasping moan that drips with arousal like the sweat down his back and the precome from his cock. Hanzo drags the tress along his lover’s thick length, from glans to base and back again. 

Every stroke of the buttery leather against Jesse’s throbbing prick has precome leaking out of him even more steadily until it’s a constant drip, making even more of a mess of their sheets. It’s only when McCree whines his name in the most desperate voice that he shows mercy on him. A gentle tap of the tress against his sensitive balls and another to the base of the plug stuffed inside of him (the noise that spills out of him at that is downright  _ sinful _ ) is all Hanzo gives him before he draws his hand back. 

He lets McCree suck in a bracing breath before he brings the crop down against his ass once more. 

It hisses through the air and cracks against Jesse’s right cheek, hitting the globe of muscle dead center. He could almost describe the sound as musical, a backbeat to accompany his lover’s moans, pants, and harsh breaths. Speaking of, McCree’s breathing is already labored and voice strained when he counts that spank aloud, something that Hanzo revels in. He wants to hear that more, more,  _ more _ .

He’s unrelenting while delivering the spanking his lover so desperately wants, swatting his exposed ass all over with the tress, only seconds between every strike. McCree counts out every smack between punched-out moans and hiccupy breaths, hips rocking back, chasing the pain-and-pleasure sensations like a man possessed. Hanzo’s dick throbs in his slacks at the sight, the sounds, desire surging through his veins. The hand he has on Jesse’s abused cheek kneads the reddened skin, digging into the flesh without a hint of remorse, and his lover keens for it. 

Sooner than he wants, McCree calls out the final number. His voice cracks as he throws his head back and gasps out, “Thirty!” Hanzo has to force himself to stop, almost bringing the crop down on his lover’s thoroughly abused ass once more. That ended faster than he expected. Next time they indulge like this, he’ll make sure to up the amount of lashings he gives him. For now, it seems like thirty is more than enough for his lover. 

Hanzo drops the crop onto the bed in favor of getting both his hands on his lover’s ass. The reddened skin radiates with heat, practically burning him as he grabs the freshly-spanked globes roughly. “Such a good boy,” he praises, hushed, as he pulls both cheeks apart and watches, enraptured, as his lover clenches desperately around the glass plug stuffed inside him. 

McCree is so far gone at this point that he barely seems to register anything other than the reverential tone Hanzo uses when speaking to him. He keens and moans, every breath he sucks in is a ragged inhale, and his arms and legs quiver. Hanzo gives his ass a squeeze and slides his hands up the scarred, sun-kissed plain of his back to rest his palms against his heaving shoulders. McCree can’t seem to catch his breath. He revels in knowing that he’s the one that caused him to lose all sense of decorum like this. That he’s turned him into a  _ mess _ . 

“Jesse,” Hanzo croons, canting his hips forward to press snugly against his ass, “You were so good for me.” He slides his hand up into his hair, scratching at his scalp gently while he grinds into his abused cheeks. “Would you like a reward for being such a good boy?” His lover sucks in a bracing breath, holds it for a moment, and exhales in a choked sob. 

“ _Yes_ _sir_ ,” he says hoarsely. Hanzo grins down at him, heartbeat racing, pounding in his ears. He slides his hand down his back, over the curve of his reddened cheeks, and to his puffy, slick hole. It’s easy to grab at the base of the plug and even easier to wiggle it around inside of his lover, especially when the action gets him the most desperate sounding moan he’s heard spill from McCree’s lips tonight. 

“And what do you think your reward should be, Jesse?”

Hanzo stares at him, at his sweat-slick skin shining in the candlelight, at his shaking body, and tugs on the plug inside of him. The muscles in his back jump. McCree’s breathing is interrupted by a punched-out moan. Hanzo slides his hand down along his back to his ass, watching Jesse and his reactions as he pulls more insistently on the slick toy. He clenches around the plug, makes it harder for Hanzo to pull it out.  _ How cheeky _ . So, he shoves it back in, all the way to the base, and watches in delight as his lover’s arms give out and he collapses against the bed. 

“P-Please sir,” he hears him groan into the mattress, desperation coloring his words and the movement of his hips as he rolls them backwards, silently asking for  _ more _ , “please reward me with–  _ fuck _ – p-please…” 

Hanzo uses his grip on the plug to slide it out inch by inch, listening to any words Jesse was intending on saying fail him, replaced by a lovely keen. “What was that, Jesse?” He asks, knowing exactly what he’s doing as he twists the plug inside of him, stroking at his sensitive inner walls. “I won’t know what reward you want if you can’t speak clearly.”

Jesse gasps, grabbing desperately at the bedspread with reckless abandon. “ _ Fuck! _ Fuck, mmm, Hanzo– Hanzo, please, sir, please pull the plug out a-and…” 

“And…?” Hanzo presses, stilling in his teasing.

McCree lets out a frustrated groan. His voice is more determined and somehow three times as desperate as he finishes his demand. “Please fuck me with your cock, sir!” 

Hanzo smirks at his back.  _ Perfect _ . That’s all he needs to hear. 

He doesn’t bother teasing him any longer. Quickly, he slips the plug out of him before dropping it to the bed. It rolls to settle in the center, making more of a mess of their sheets than McCree’s precome, though Hanzo doesn’t pay it any mind. Cleaning up will be for after all of this. For now, he has more important things on his mind. 

Hanzo pops the button on his slacks and pushes them down to sit low on his hips, along with his underwear. He pulls his cock out, stroking the throbbing length of it while he digs around in his pocket for the small bottle of lube he knew he would need and had stashed away. It takes a quick flick of his thumb to pop the cap on it, and a quick squeeze to drop a healthy amount of it on his cock.After that, he drops it to the floor, not giving a damn where the cheap bottle ends up. Not that he would need it anymore– McCree’s hole is still slick and open from the plug. He wants this just as much as his lover does right now. 

He slicks his cock with lube and move to kneel on the bed, right behind Jesse, who is rocking back and repeating a quiet mantra of, “Please, sir.” It’s cute. And incredibly erotic– hearing and seeing him so desperate fans the flames in his abdomen, driving the fire higher until it licks at every inch of him, threatening to burn him alive from the inside-out. 

Hanzo holds his cock steady and shifts forward, pressing against his lover’s hole. It yields so easily to him, letting him slip inside as if it were made for him. He thought his own insides were on fire… He’s merely a campfire in comparison to the veritable forest fire raging inside of McCree. 

The soft, hot,  _ slick _ walls welcome his cock, swallowing up every inch of him as he sinks forward. By the time his hips meet the abused, overheated skin of Jesse’s ass, his head is spinning and he can barely breath. After their play earlier, he knows he won’t last much longer like this, especially considering the  _ heat _ inside his love’s ass.

“Such– Ah,  _ fuck _ , such a good boy,” Hanzo grunts as he slides his hips back, eyelids fluttering shut at the delightful feel of Jesse’s hole struggling to keep him in for as long as possible, “f-for me, aren’t you?” 

McCree practically wails into the bedspread, bound hands grabbing at the sheets to ball them up in his fists. “Y-Yes, yes,  _ yes _ , I am– all fer  _ you! _ ”

“Yes, you are, so,” Hanzo rolls his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt, and then back again until only the tip remains inside of Jesse, “You will have no problem fucking yourself on my cock until I am ready to come, yes?” 

Jesse doesn’t even have a verbal response to that– all he does is sob into the bed and nod as best he can from where he has his face pressed into the mattress. He eagerly starts to push back on Hanzo, going until the sound of their hips meeting reaches his ears and then pulling back again. 

It takes a moment for him to find his rhythm but he manages. Hanzo watches him, reverential, as his lover takes his pleasure from him. The sight of himself being buried inside his lover’s ass is just as erotic as the feeling of his slick walls clenching around him on every thrust. Jesse can barely control himself in how desperate he is– Hanzo knows the feeling all too well, knowing how eager for his lover’s cock he gets when they’re in the heat of things. 

Push back. Pull forward. Repeat. Jesse’s hips get faster the closer he gets, the steady stream of precome trickling out of him increasing in intensity with every thrust. Hanzo can already feel the coil in midsection winding tighter and tighter. He doesn’t want it to end yet, but he can tell McCree is more than ready to come at this point. They’ll have more opportunities to do this in the future, he’s sure of it. 

Ever unkind, Hanzo smacks both hands down on Jesse’s ass, listening with a smirk to his yelp. That tapers off into a moan as soon as he takes control, driving into his lover  _ hard _ . The sound of their hips smacking together is  _ delectable _ , and hearing it in conjunction to the hiccupy moans punched out of McCree with every thrust is truly a symphony. 

Hanzo squeezes each abused globe, digging his fingers into the meat of them in hopes that the welts he left will be accompanied by fingermarks. The thought has a possessive thrill skittering up his spine like lightning. Even though no one else will see it, he’ll know that he left his mark on McCree like such. He cannot wait for the questions people will throw at his lover the next few days as Jesse attempts to recover from the brutal spanking he gave him.

“P-Please,” he hears McCree sob, louder than his moans and quite obviously meant to catch Hanzo’s attention, “Please let me come– I-I can’t take it anymore, please, sir–”

Hanzo could be cruel. He could order him to not come until he did. But, while he was perfectly capable of doing so, he won’t. Not tonight. Tonight, McCree has more than earned his reward. 

“You may,” Hanzo grunts out, bottoming out inside of McCree and squeezing his eyes shut. “Come for me, Jesse.” 

The scream of his name that rips from Jesse’s throat will leave his throat sore for the next few days, he knows it. More importantly, it likely wakes up the entire base too. It’s exactly what he wanted. Now, everyone will know what they get up to behind closed doors, will know how desperate and needy Jesse is for this, for  _ Hanzo _ .

His hole flutters and clenches around him, growing tighter by the second, as his lover comes  _ hard.  _ The sheets end up absolutely covered, rope after rope splashing against the bedspread as he crests. His shoulders quake, as do his legs, and his muscles  _ clench _ . So tight, so  _ impossibly _ tight, he can’t stand it– it’s so much and McCree is too perfect and– and– 

He’s so caught up in the scream of his name and how every line of Jesse’s body tenses that his own orgasm blindsides him. Hanzo’s mouth falls open on a gasp, a shudder rolling up through him from his toes to the top of his head as he comes deep inside of Jesse, filling him to the brim. McCree is such a good boy too– he takes every drop like he was made for it, and keens so happily.

His softening cock slips out of him, leaving his lover’s hole gaping, puffy, and slick. Hanzo shuffles backwards off the bed, legs just the slightest bit wobbly as he stands up. He shucks his pants and the button-down McCree had insisted he wear, even though he practically didn’t see him at all during this scene. He takes care to untie his lover’s hands and feet, and steals a quick kiss from him before walking around the room and snuffing out all of the candles. Hanzo makes sure to snag a towel from the bathroom on his way back to the bed, which McCree is sprawled on.

“Was that good?” Hanzo asks, a touch nervous. He doesn’t normally assume this role, so he can’t help but feel like he may have gotten something wrong along the way. 

McCree raises a hand to wave his question off, still looking fucked-out and practically boneless on their bed. “Oh, yeah it was,” he croons, sounding tired and sluggish, “y’punished me good,  _ sir _ .” 

Hanzo rolls his eyes at that, swiping the slightly damp towel along his lover’s sweat-slick skin. Jesse lets him, watching his every movement as he cleans him up like he was taught to do. Aftercare is incredibly important. 

After he manages to clean up most of the mess, he drops the washcloth to the ground and climbs onto their bed. McCree’s arms open for him readily, and he eagerly occupies the space between them. He lays on his still-heaving chest and looks up at him with open adoration, a smile gracing his features. They stay silent for a few long moments, enjoying each other’s presence and basking quietly in the afterglow. It’s only when McCree’s mouth opens in a jaw-cracking yawn does Hanzo say anything to him. 

“Jesse?” 

“Mm, yes, Hanzo?” 

He scoots up on top of him and braces both arms on either side of his head as he leans in to steal a sweet kiss from his lover’s even sweeter lips. Jesse hums into the lip-lock, obviously enjoying the contact just as much as Hanzo is. The kiss lasts longer than he originally wanted it to but, Gods, he would never even  _ think _ about complaining about getting kisses from Jesse. Unless they’re in the morning before he brushes his teeth. Then, and only then, would you catch him complaining. 

When they part, Hanzo is breathing far heavier than he wants to be. Perhaps it works in his favor, though, as he purrs out his question against his lover’s spit-slick lips. 

“Have you ever thought about tying  _ me _ up and giving  _ me _ a spanking?”

The spark of interest in Jesse’s eyes is instantly intoxicating. 

“Why, darlin’... I thought you’d never ask.” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> You made it to the end!! This was really difficult for me to write, so I hope you all enjoyed it!! Thank you for taking the time to read this!!


End file.
